This is so incredibly powerful and all my followers (especially you high schoolers heading to college soon) should see it.
Life is not a series of selection menus; it is an ongoing journey with ups and downs and roundabouts that seem impossible to merge out of. You may find yourself so busy chasing happiness that you miss a real opportunity. You may achieve your goals only to find that it wasn’t at all what you’d hoped. You may realize that you don’t really KNOW what your goals are at all.
And that’s ok. In fact, that’s more than ok: that’s life.
We tend to look at (and especially look back on) our lives like highlight reels or resumes: a series of ‘notable’ points with blank space between them. But life isn’t like that. Your life can’t be summed up by the memories on your Facebook feed. Life is a second-to-second adventure that is equal parts struggle, confusion, and hard work.
And sometimes–just sometimes–it’s absolutely spectacular.
And it’s ok to remember those spectacular moments fondly. But just make sure you never forget that each and every one of them had chunks of the struggle/confusion/hard work mix in between. So if you find yourself in one of those now, don’t lose hope. Don’t give up. If I can convey one thing to my followers it’s this:
Nothing lasts forever. No matter how awful what you’re going through is, it WILL pass. Tomorrow the sun WILL rise. Whatever you’re going through now WILL fade. If you’re in a bad situation, educate yourself about it and what steps you can take; your situation will eventually change. If you’re confused about what you want, find what you LIKE and throw yourself into it; you’ll eventually feel a pull. If your own self is what’s somehow betraying you, HOLD. ON. Even the severest of setbacks have fluctuations. Wait for your moment, and claim victory.
Even happiness is transient; and that may seem like something sad and awful.
It’s not. The truth is so much of what we call ‘happiness’ is found in the pursuit of it. We panic when we feel it slipping from our grasp, but don’t worry: it’s just giving us the chance to chase it again; it does us the favor of continuing the game of tag before we ourselves even realize we’ve stopped playing.
Your life will be full of times–sometimes long times–that are frustrating, and make no sense, or are unjust, or unfair, or infuriating, or just plain hard. Worst of all, some of you may have to face those things alone; and I’m sorry for that. I’m so deeply, deeply sorry.
Even the darkest clouds eventually give way. Have faith in the never-still, ever-changing nature of life, and hold tight, baby. Because sooner or later, the sun breaks through all the grey and it makes everything that came before worth it.
Sooner or later, there’s going to come a moment where you truly shine.
A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! XOXO
“How many are we up to now?”
The phone rests warm between your ear and shoulder as you glance down at the screen. “Almost four hundred followers,” you tell him. “Not exactly famous yet.”
Dean pauses, and you picture him sprawled out on a motel bed very much like yours, just two states over, glass in hand and flannel shirt crumpled at the foot of the bed, undershirt clinging tight to his chest.
almost jumps out of his skin when the Haus’ front door bangs open, the loud
slam of wood against wall echoing through the hallway and reaching Bitty where
he had been sitting placidly at the kitchen table. He relaxes when he
recognizes Nursey in the archway of the room, but something about the way he’s
standing makes Bitty double take.
looks like someone took Nursey and gave him a good shake, sloughing off all
that hipster cool that he so carefully cultivates for his everyday persona.
Nursey’s lost the regular slouch in his shoulders, the serene look on his face;
now, he’s swaying slightly, legs and arms tucked tight into his body. It’s like
he’s unconsciously trying to take up as small a space as he can, which, being a
6’2” college athlete, isn’t all that small. His curls are slightly mussed, and
he has lines of exhaustion written across his face.
he says, a note of solemnity in his quiet voice, “I need your help.”
hptc22 asked: Can u do a cute one with Tyler seguin where u confront him Bc he said he only wanted to date older girls and u are younger then him and ur insecure Bc u want him to think ur like hot not adorable and he’s sweet and blah blah <33
Word Count: 1,165
Summary: You watch Tyler’s “Barstool The Life” video and notice the part where he says he’d only date older girls… It preys on your insecurity a little bit so you decide to find out what Tyler really thinks about your age.
otherwise known as the 5 times Garrus Vakarian crushed on the Commander, and the 1 time he finally realized it.
Glancing at her didn’t mean anything, right?
Because it was totally normal, or so he had told himself, to
look at other people while they ate. He looked at Tali, looked at Samara,
exchanged middle fingers with Jack, and looked – glanced – at Shepard. Took in her red hair and plump lips and rosy
cheeks that were probably, most definitely, were very soft to touch and –
She shifted, and Garrus swallowed quickly through a piece of
Levo steak that he hadn’t completely chewed through.
He choked a little, and shrugged off Tali’s concerned hand
before lunging for the water.
And as he tossed back a glance, he saw her, from the corner
of his eye, watching him, lips twisted up in now what he knew firsthand as a
He met her eyes. (Ignored his thudding heart.) Narrowed his
own in a challenge.
But she merely looked away, so easily – because surely
glancing at him didn’t mean anything, right?
The sound of a crash and a loud hiss of a very human swear
caught his attention, if only because it was some ungodly hour in human
standards, as he had learned being aboard a human ship for as long as he has.
There was no mistaking the voice, too, and unlike her, Garrus was wide awake. So when Shepard stumbled into the mess
with bedridden hair and drooping eyes, she only gave one look at him before she
brushed past his shoulder.
Garrus merely tapped his fingers against the mug.
And so she began to affix herself with that human drug-disguised-as-liquid,
Garrus couldn’t help it. He looked. Again.
He swore it was only because he wasn’t aware her fringe
could really do that.
“Your hair,” he managed.
She only grumbled in response, before she brushed past him
again – so close, it shot electricity down his spine – before collapsing into
the chair opposite from her, blowing on that steaming, somewhat earthy smelling
“It’s sticking up,” he continued, undeterred.
He watched as her eyes widened, and her hands abandon the
mug to tug it back down into place. He knew the human tells of embarrassment –
years of C Sec would do that to any officer – and yet he had never quite found
the human thing of cheeks turning red,
(blood, as it were) to be oddly endearing.
And when she wrestled her fringe to be normal again, and as
she mumbled a half swear from lazy and half-asleep lips, Garrus found himself
conflicted; almost wishing he hadn’t said something in the first place.
His fingers drummed against the railing, and honestly he
didn’t know he was waiting for it. Didn’t
realize the odd tranquility – relief? – that
came with the familiar hiss and slide of the door behind him.
He flexed his fingers and turned, readying what he knew was
a greeting that was a perfect blend of sarcastic, aloof, yet warm, and as he
took a breath to unleash the line he’d been thinking of –
- the words died when he realized it was Joker.
The human raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look so disappointed.”
“I’m not-“ Garrus swallowed. “- Disappointed. Why are you
back here anyways?” He said quickly. “Shouldn’t you be flying the ship?”
“Right?” Joker said. “You’d think that’s what a pilot should
do. Hey,” he said suddenly. “Tell that to Shepard. Then maybe, just maybe, she’d
let a human – who has flown several ships for her, by the way – actually do his
job, instead of an AI.”
Garrus merely blinked as Joker scrunched his nose. It was an
expression he didn’t typically see on Shepard, he thought, as his fingers
resumed drumming the edge of the railing.
“Why don’t you tell her that yourself?” he said
goodnaturedly, but the look that Joker gives him said so otherwise.
“You kidding? These days she’s only coming to see you.”
Garrus’s fingers froze.
“That’s why I came in here anyways, to get her to demand EDI to relinquish control back to
me. And to tell her that imitating the Reapers isn’t funny. Well, it would be
at the right times, but taking over the flying while parroting Assuming Direct Control isn’t really
And Joker was gone, but Garrus hadn’t been listening. He was
still stuck on that first part, and truthfully he wouldn’t stop hearing those
eight words over and over, on repeat, until the next day.
‘Business as usual’ was already a stretch when he was
busting crimes daily with C-Sec; when it became the bandit attacks and wave
after wave of firefights, though, Garrus never knew if he was in over his head.
But it was comforting to be lead by Shepard, who knew what
she was doing, and he could follow her orders without feeling off.
In fact, it felt right.
He’d never really identified
And the thought played in his mind, festering like a fire,
and it’s not until a snipe that’s a little too close to his position than he
would’ve liked shock him from his thoughts.
Shepard was holding the smoking pistol, too.
“Earth to Vakarian,”
she barked over the comm. “Are you taking
“No, Shepard,” he responded, and to prove it, he whipped out
his rifle and began to scope out the next bandit to show their face.
“Well good,” her
voice crackled into his ear. “Because
they had a target on you, and you’re not allowed to hit the dust before-“
He couldn’t help it; his heart did an awkward flop and he
has to bite his lip, turn up the volume of Fleet
and Flotilla, to just maintain concentration.
A sigh blew into his comm. “-Before the end of this mission.”
He watched as the bandit in his scope dropped clean with a
splash of red; the shot rang out like a pleasant accompaniment to the
soundtrack oozing into his ear.
“Get a room,” was
Miranda’s only addition.
Of all the crew, it was Samara’s expression that caught him
It wasn’t until the rest of them had filed out after their
mission debrief, after Samara tapped him on the wrist as Grunt was the last to
leave, Shepard in tow.
It was one simple word.
A cross between mortification and embarrassment shot through
his spine, and at first he merely flanged in astonishment before he found his
voice again. “Hea- no, I’m not
The Justicar merely shrugged, and it was times like these
that Garrus sincerely wished that, if they were to have one resident Asari on board, it should’ve been the younger one who
would at least not be so upfront about
“My apologies,” she said, with no change in her voice at
all. “I assumed. Humans and Turians are quite close in lifespans…”
He couldn’t help the involuntary flare of his mandibles as
Garrus gawked. “Shepard isn’t eighteen either—“
But Samara merely gave a smile that was less reassuring and
more chilling, and once again Garrus had no idea if the Asari was merely
teasing or being completely serious.
“Well your voice shows it, you know?” She said
conversationally. “I’ve met enough Turians in my lifetime to identify the
sound. You may want to be more subtle though, especially around the crew.”
And then she was gone, or maybe Garrus was just standing
there. Processing. Blanking.
What did she even mean?
Shit shit shit shit shit shit.
He didn’t know when it’d hit him like a pile of bricks but
it did, and it did literally right in
front of her – when he was going to go off on some other funny anecdote because
it was what he did, what Vakarian did to Shepard, fireforged friends who went
through hell and back and may be on the verge of something and –
Terror shot up his spine – it was very clear to him that
Shepard had come to him with the proposition of blowing off steam. And him, like
an idiot, rolled with it. Didn’t even know,
shit – since when – was that what
Samara meant, did Miranda know before the two of them, was Joker kidding, were
fringes ever cute –
– Was glancing ever just glancing –
And the words tumbled out of him before he knew what he was
saying, and the insecurities spilled revealing things he didn’t even quite know
he felt, and suddenly he was questioning whether she was okay with it all because he’s a turian and she’s a human and they’re
friends, best friends, and it could
be awkward and bad and they need each other and, really, do they even fit
But she touched his face, thumb careful along his scar.
“I want you,” she said.
And he was flying. His
heart picked up and his throat caught and he knew his mandibles flared, as they
do involuntarily, as his mother’s do around his father. Twenty emotions played
at his heart and he wanted to do nothing more than to pick her up and spin her
around but he refrained, disguising this utter elation with a terrible joke that even made him cringe, and he has no way to recover from the smirk that twisted
up her lip as she backed away with a coy, “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Right,” he droned.
Shit, shit shit fuck,
I think I may really like her.
“’Cause I’m in a great place to optimize firing algorithms right now.”
I’ve had this in my drafts for a while and for whatever reason just didn’t post it but with the spam happening right now, I think it’s the right time to post it.
so I was looking at this picture:
and at first glance, it’s totally normal, right? just a cute pic of three coworkers. until something caught my eye. Specifically, the blood on Cait’s forehead. Look at her, clean and adorable as a daisy. no blood anywhere else so hMM where did that blood come from. well, it ain’t Graham because her head isn’t on his shoulder like that and the blood on his shirt looks relatively dry.
so we go to the other gentleman in this picture. Who is COVERED in fresh blood, including his neck and face. and if you take a closer look at his neck, there’s a mysterious clean spot:
which lines up quite perfectly with a certain someone’s forehead. Me thinks two very cuddly people were being very cuddly…even with fake blood.
AAA! They are all EXCITED! Dario is wayyyy too eager about the punching down special, too!
Aaa, welcome to my blog! <3 Thank you for following! Please don’t be ashamed, it’s totally normal! Their Splatoon bios are right here! (Altho the pics are really old, haha!) For their original selves, I’m still working on it, but please don’t worry! Take the blog at whatever pace is best for you <3
LOL, there is definitely a kidnapping happening there
I’m so excited to work on the comics, especially all the octo!Dario ones, so I hope you’re excited to see them!
I really love you guys, you’re all so terribly sweet. But I struggle with making friends- I’m really hard to talk to on a personal level unless we naturally become friends over time and even then, I struggle to get back to people. But! I was wondering if you guys would ever like to have a discord server altogether? I think it’d be tons of fun and I would love to have splat sessions, streams, and movie nights with you guys! Let me know!
That’s all for today! It’s a little short because I didn’t get many Splatoon asks but thank you all for the questions! I’m very happy to draw and talk for you guys! Again, let me know what you think about a discord server! Have a great weekend!
Eric and Jack meet atop the Eiffel Tower. It’s the beginning of a few
whirlwind days together, but Eric’s leaving soon. How much can really
happen between them in just a few days?
Eric hears the voice break through the clutter of other languages. It’s accented, but it’s English. Finally.
“Excuse me.” He taps the shoulder of the man who’s been speaking on his phone.
man turns, and Eric’s breath catches. He’s gorgeous. If Eric knew, he
probably wouldn’t have approached him at all. Eric enjoys flirting,
generally speaking, but he’s terrible at flirting when he actually cares
But that’s not why he interrupted this man’s enjoyment of the Eiffel Tower.
“Yes?” The man says, looking down at Eric from a fair few inches above him.
clears his throat, and tries to clear his head of distracting thoughts
about the man’s eyes. “I was wondering, would you be able to take a
picture of me, please?”
“Sure,” the man agrees with a shrug, and a small smile.
is relieved. He’s been waiting for almost ten minutes for another
English speaker. He didn’t think it would take so long, and he was too
nervous to try using hand gestures to communicate with a non-English
speaker, even though everyone up here is probably used to it, or has
done it themselves.
“Thank you so much,” Eric says gratefully. He
hands the man his phone, camera app already open. “Just tap anywhere on
“Alright,” the man accepts, looking down to the camera screen.
moves back to the edge of the platform and smiles at the camera. The
man takes a few moments to figure out Eric’s phone, then he lifts his
gaze to Eric. His eyes narrow slightly, and he takes a step to one side
before lifting the phone and taking the photo.
“Hang on, I’ll take another,” he says, already moving to a new angle.
just keeps smiling, though he’s been holding it a while and thinks it’s
slipping into being fake. He moves his arms to a slightly different
hold in case the other one turns out bad. He doesn’t want to have to ask
this man to take another photo just because his arm looks funny. He’s
The man raises Eric’s phone again and points it
toward Eric. Eric can see him tapping several times, taking multiple
photos. The man has got little furrow lines between his eyebrows, which
Eric can’t help but think is very attractive. There’s something about a
man so focused that speaks to Eric.
I had this dream last night that there were cryptids called Sky Raccoons. They were from another dimension but would show up occasionally in our clouds, where they would tunnel pac-man style patterns as they tried to catch small prey that also lived in the clouds. Sometimes they would shoot right out of the cloud and randomly fall down to earth.